Thursday, July 30, 2015

Here I am again, sitting in front of a blank screen trying to figure out where the heck do I start. I know I need to write but its never easy. Life has a way of constantly changing. With those changes comes the challenge of adjusting. There have been so many times where I think to myself, "Great! I have it all figured out" just to turn around and have the next challenge knocking on my door. And here we go, trying to figure it out all over again.

Gabriella went to camp this week. Overnight camp. For 6 nights. And the camp is about 5 hours away. Do you hear my anxiety? I don't think I've been able to catch my breath just yet. I probably won't until she comes home. On Sunday.

I miss her terribly. I try not to think about the fact that her absence could have been our reality. Yes, that thought comes creeping in and just like a fly, I swat it away as quick as possible. But doing this isn't allowing me to work through these occasional feelings of sadness, the tears that I feel when hearing about a child's diagnosis or death, and the overcoming feeling of grief and inability to remember what we went through. I want to cry (and sometimes I do), I want to cry a lot, I want to grieve for that family but I've put up this enormous barricade in order to protect myself. Keep going. Keep moving forward. Keep running ahead of it. I was never like this before. I cried about everything. We were in it (treatment), I would often learn about other child; relapsing; dying. And I'd cry. I'd sob. I remember one day being in complete tears because another little one had relapsed, and I reached out to a "more experienced" cancer mom and asked her, "How do you do this? How can you make it through the day hearing about yet another child facing cancer." I realized then that I had to change in order to get through it. Put up a wall that would only be the tiniest bit penetrable for those dire moments. And the building commenced.

I've had the chance to reflect a little in G's absence. Going through Gabriella's treatments was one of the...no....change that....it was THE HARDEST THING I'VE EVER DEALT WITH. A few months ago, a newsletter was sent out asking parents to submit our child's story to create a book on children with cancer. Any chance I get to share G's story to those wanting to make a difference is a good opportunity to take. So I let them know I would write something and send it in figuring her story is written down in about 50 places and would be easy to find. But it wasn't that easy. It's been told in so many ways with so many evolutions. I had to write another one. Thinking this would be easy, I went back to the beginning of this blog to remember. I only made it through a couple of sentences before slamming the computer shut (gently of course). I can't do it yet. I can't go back to process it. Not yet, but I know I have to eventually. Shit, sometimes I don't even feel like we went through it. It's almost surreal because it was too real. Wait, it was real.

Since I'm that crazy kind of mom, I thought it would be fun to send some packages up for G so she could have little tastes of fun and little memories from home. It kept me busy so I wouldn't have to think about how much I would miss her, but it was also fun. I think I got carried away.